


Christmas Gifts, for One and All

by MuiromeM



Category: Psych
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Presents, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holidays, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mistletoe, Winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 09:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2846429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuiromeM/pseuds/MuiromeM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Christmas or winter themed one-shots for the holiday season. Ratings vary depending on the chapters, but there isn’t actually anything smutty, just suggestive for the sake of laughs, or angsty dramatic stuff that might happen during a case. Mostly just the sort of fluffy Christmas domesticity that every good OTP needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Song and a Christmas Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter of this fic is generally stand-alone and the prompts I used are based on the gifts given each day from the song “A Song and a Christmas Tree” by Andy Williams (written in 1963). The song takes the same tune and idea of the usual 12 Days of Christmas, but with much more modern and less bizarre gifts. In my head, each one-shot happens within the same December even if there are no inter-fic references, but that’s just me.
> 
> Just a warning, if you think Lassiter isn’t secretly a big softie and someone that loves Christmas as much as anyone else, I suggest you re-watch some episodes because I will fight you on this. Also, I seem to know no bounds when it comes to gooey, sweet, overly cliché fluffiness when writing Christmas fic, so be warned now that this is either going to be sickeningly sweet or I’ll crush you with some angsty hurt/comfort. That is apparently how I roll, whether I like it or not.
> 
> Reviews are always appreciated (especially since I worry about characterization all the time), and I hope you enjoy reading. Despite being based on 12 Days of Christmas I make no guarantees that I will write that many one-shots.
> 
> Happy Holidays and MERRY CHRISTMAS!

When Lassiter went to bed on November twenty seventh, the idea of winter celebrations hadn’t even crossed his mind. His head had hit the pillow, Shawn curling up next to him like a cross between a koala and a rather large cat, and he’d drifted off to sleep quite contentedly. He’d eaten Thanksgiving dinner earlier that evening at Henry’s house of all places (sitting alongside Shawn and Guster because _of course_ the latter had been invited), and despite some of the usual arguing between father and son, everything had gone surprisingly well. There was of course a side of Henry’s succotash that had too great a ratio of lima beans to corn, but he was a trained professional and it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

So when he awoke on the following morning, Carlton was expecting to enjoy a nice quiet weekend at home with his knucklehead of a boyfriend, eating the leftovers Shawn had stolen from his father, and this time having dinner sans relatives. Instead, he was taken by surprise to find the other side of his bed messy but empty (Shawn almost always slept in, unless he had something fun or exciting to do), while some modern and loud Christmas song came blasting through the bedroom door from elsewhere in the apartment.

Curiosity getting the best of him, Lassiter finished his usual shower-and-shave routine faster than usual and hurriedly changed into his off-duty civvies of pajama pants and a comfortable shirt. His favorite S.B.P.D. t-shirt was conspicuously missing though, so instead he dug around in his dresser and managed to find a loose-fitting Henley shirt underneath about a dozen work pants and black socks.

He cautiously opened the bedroom door and tread lightly down the hallway, trying to avoid drawing any unwanted attention before he could get a good look at what the consultant was doing at an hour Shawn usually called “ass-o-clock in the morning”. That description tended to fall on any hour before noon on most normal days, but considering it wasn’t even nine yet, the detective had to wonder what Shawn was up to. While it was unlikely that Carlton’s footsteps (or even a pack of howling wolves), could have been heard over the blaring voice of Brenda Lee, he tried to stay as quiet as possible anyways.

As soon as Carlton rounded the corner towards the living room, he stopped abruptly in his tracks, mouth agape from both confusion and what might have been wonder.

Without any walls or doors to block out sound, the music from his speaker system was now blaring on full-volume. Standing in their shared living room, dressed only in Christmas boxers and what was definitely the detective’s S.B.P.D. t-shirt (if the color and way it hung off his shoulders slightly was any indication), was Shawn. A Santa hat was tilted ridiculously atop his head and he was singing his heart out into a long icicle-shaped Christmas ornament, for some reason giving “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” what Lassiter knew to be his best Mariah Carey impression.

If that wasn’t cause enough for Carlton to pause, the fact that the living room had suddenly become a minefield in some kind of Christmas war certainly was. Boxes of different ornaments, some opened and spilling their contents, others closed but stacked four boxes high, were littering the floor, coffee table, couch, and one was even being used to hold a crumb-covered plate. There were tangled lights, tinsel, and Shawn had tacked a wreath up on one wall.

“Oh hey, you’re up!” Carlton must have been staring for a while because Shawn had spotted him and managed to weave his way through the Christmas explosion, turning the music down to a manageable level on the way over (something the detective was very grateful for).

Shawn gave him the usual morning kiss on the cheek and wrapped his arms around Carlton’s shoulders. “I was going to try to get everything up before you were awake as a surprise, but the lights won’t untangle right and Gus refuses to come over and do it- believe me I already checked. Apparently, the best friend code does not include a ‘save from death by Christmas light strangulation’ clause which I plan to fix as soon as possible.” he paused and shrugged. “Plus I figured you might want to help put the ornaments on the tree.”

And oh yes, that was something Carlton’s brain still hadn’t managed to register; a Christmas tree. There was a full-sized, green and white honest-to-god _Christmas tree_ in the corner of his living room. Judging by the dusting of stuff meant to look like snow, he assumed it was a fake and was pleased that he wouldn’t have to worry about cleaning up dead needles, blatant fire hazards, or any nut-loving home invaders that weren’t named Shawn Spencer.

But while Shawn was still hugging him and talking about getting ornaments from his father and the dollar store or something similar, Lassiter was trying to come to terms with the fact that Shawn was decorating for Christmas. It was the day after Thanksgiving and the detective hadn’t even bothered with such things in years; Victoria always insisted that holidays be spent at her parent’s house, and then after the divorce, the loneliness of an empty home on what was meant to be the happiest day of the year had spurred Lassiter to take on spare shifts during the festive season. Even trying to spend the holidays with O’Hara hadn’t gone well, and then there were the two years of investigating Guster’s parents…

Suffice to say, this was the first time he’d seen his living space looking so traditionally festive in a very long time.

“Yo, earth to Lassie!” Shawn was waving his hand in front of Carlton’s face, looking at him like he was crazy. “Dude, do I have to check this place for weird drugs again? That kid on the tricycle still freaks me out and I’m not afraid to grill him psychic-style. I’ll even steal your ‘serious business’ sunglasses if I have to.”

Lassiter finally snapped out of it and raised an eyebrow at Shawn, smirking. “You are _not_ stealing my sunglasses. Besides, if anyone is going to put the screws to that kid, you know I get the first shot.” he said a little too eagerly. “And of course there are no drugs. I’m just… surprised.” he admitted. “I haven’t really done anything for Christmas in a while.”

Shawn headed towards the kitchen, one of the few rooms untouched by the chaos with a safe path in and out, pulling the detective along with him. “I kind of figured you wouldn’t do anything fun, mister Scrooge-pants. That was the point of getting up so early. So, you know… surprise!” he grabbed a mug from the cabinet and Carlton noticed it seemed to be new.

“I’m not a scrooge, I just… got busy. And when did you get this?” the detective asked off-handedly, taking the mug but eyeing it skeptically as he went for the coffee pot. The cup was red with green designs, had candy cane stripes for the handle and said “I’m the reason Santa has a Naughty List” on one side.

Shawn made a dive for the mug and snatched it away despite Lassiter’s sound of protest. “Nope, that one’s mine Lassie. You get this one!” He shoved a mug in Carlton’s hands. This one was possibly worse than the last; just as bright red, but with white curled designs along the top and bottom, the handle was shaped like an adorable gingerbread man and across the front it said “Gimme some sugar” in all capital letters.

Still not awake without his morning coffee, Carlton just stared at the thing for a minute or two. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” he mumbled, running a hand over uncombed hair. “This is an atrocity of nature. How am I supposed to put my coffee in this?”

Shawn shook his head and retrieved the mug. “Nope, not kidding one tiny bit Lassie; for the next twenty eight days you have to use that mug or else you’re not properly in the Christmas spirit.” When he saw Lassiter shake his head but grab the bag of ground coffee anyways, Shawn enjoyed a silent moment of victory before stealing the coffee away as well. “Oh, and no coffee.” he declared.

Carlton looked like a cross between an alcoholic whose booze was just stolen away and a tired, sad little puppy. “What?” he blinked and then the frown came in full-force. “Hand over the coffee Spencer; this is not the time for idiotic pranks.”

If Lassiter was using Shawn’s last name again it meant the man was getting pissed, so Shawn figured some damage control was in order. He put everything in his hands down, grabbed Carlton by the shoulders and steered him into the living room without too much protesting from the detective. Shawn quickly cleared a path and a spot on the couch, pushed Carlton down onto it and then pushed a small cardboard box into his hands.

“Stay put.” he said in as much seriousness as he could. “I’m going to make us the best store-bought hot cocoa you have ever had and then we’re going to decorate this tree even if I have to sacrifice my life and possibly Gus’s to get those stupid lights untangled.”

Lassiter looked like he wanted to protest for a minute, but as his gaze went from Shawn’s eager face to the room around him- the wreath and the plastic ornaments, an unlit candle centerpiece on the coffee table and two stockings he realized had been hung by the fireplace- his shoulders relaxed.

“Alright Shawn, I’ll forego coffee. But just this once!” he said, a fondness in his words despite the frown he wore while putting up both hands like a prisoner’s surrender. As Shawn scurried back into the kitchen, he shook his head, raising his voice to be heard over the music. “But you’d better not have hidden my regular coffee mug again. And I’ll need that shirt back eventually!”

There was a muffled reply that sounded like a smug “in your dreams” from the other room and Lassiter knew he was fighting a losing battle. Shawn had a habit of stealing his clothes, but only ones he’d already worn the previous day, and wandering around the house in them. Half the time Shawn didn’t even keep the boxers, just one of Carlton’s shirts and nothing else, standing proudly in one of the most cliché rom-com displays he’d ever seen.

Not that the detective was exactly _complaining_ …

Carlton shook his head to himself, clearing away those thoughts for the moment. While he waited for the cocoa and listened to "Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree" repeat for the tenth time, Lassiter actually relaxed against the couch despite the chaos that surrounded the usually neat room. There was a strange smell in the air which he attributed to the fake tree and the older ornaments that were probably from Shawn’s childhood, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Instead it brought back very old memories of some of his more pleasant Christmases as a child, before his father split and his mother became too busy.

With his mind wandering to other things, Carlton didn’t realize until too late that he’d begun opening the cardboard box that Shawn had given to him. It was dusty and rather beat-up looking, but weighed very little and the flaps had been situated just right to keep the box closed without taping it shut.

Inside there was a very small assortment of blobs that must have been ornaments, wrapped in bubble wrap and nestled in pale brown tissue paper to keep them from breaking.

Carlton glanced over his shoulder and saw Shawn shaking his hips to the music’s chorus, still busy with making cocoa. Figuring he’d have to wait for the warm beverage for a little while longer, curiosity overtook the detective and Lassiter carefully took one of the puffy objects out. He found a tab of tape and pulled on it, unwrapping the ornament with great care, lest he break something of Henry’s and give the man a reason to bust his door down weeks later.

The tape and wrapping started to roll away, making the shape in Carlton’s hands began to look almost familiar, and as he pulled the last of the bubble wrap off, his brows knit together in confusion.

It was a cowboy boot- the glass painted to look brown and red with little holly designs that he’d once stared at in his room for hours on end. Carlton dropped the ornament gently in his lap and started unwrapping the other contents of the old box in a sort of excited daze. He was both surprised and not to find that the old decorations inside all fit the same strange theme; there was a cactus, horse, and cowboy hat that were all made of glass, along with a metal ornament made to look like a horseshoe. There was a classic round one that had been painted like a desert sunset, and at the very bottom, both hung with a small red ribbon instead of a metal hook, were a tiny sheriff’s badge and gun.

“I hope you’re ready to have your mind blown because no one makes Nesquick and Swiss Miss cocoa madness like a Spencer!” Shawn appeared suddenly from the kitchen, looking at the floor more than anything else as he trudged through the mayhem of lights and boxes. Puffy white whip cream wobbled dangerously in a tall spire atop both of the mugs he carried, and the consultant was too busy trying to avoid a catastrophic spillover to notice that Lassiter was once again not paying attention to what he was saying.

Shawn paused in the middle of the living room, looking intently at his boyfriend. Blue eyes were fixated upon the trinkets on the detective’s lap, sitting atop a pile of bubble wrap strips while the cardboard box Shawn had given to Carlton lay off to one side of the couch.

After carefully making a space to set the mugs of cocoa on the coffee table, Shawn took a seat next to Lassiter, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder because the rest of the couch was still covered in crap. Trying not to shift nervously, Shawn gently took one of the ornaments and pretended to look it over intently, avoiding eye contact.  “You know Lassie, you’re always working during the holidays and you never really talk about Christmas, so I always thought you didn’t like it. But Jules told me one time that you know way too much stuff about Danish Santa and professional opinions on when Baby J. was born or something, so I started to think maybe I was wrong. I figured… maybe you just didn’t have anyone to celebrate with for a long time.”

Carlton looked up for a moment after hearing what Shawn said, but quickly averted his eyes as his cheeks and ears reddened. “No, not really.” he mumbled, fingers running over the surface of one of the ornaments. “Didn’t really have a reason to do anything special… not until you and I started dating.”

Since he and Shawn had gotten together sometime in March earlier in the year, Lassiter had spent the previous Christmas season alone at the station as had been the usual for years.

“Right,” Shawn continued, feeling a bit more confident now that Carlton didn’t seem upset. “Anyways, I _love_ Christmas and no one gets to be a lonely Scrooge on my watch except my dad. Especially not if I’m living, spooning it up half-moon style, and making noises in the nighttime with them. I thought you’d have a lot more fun now since you get to celebrate with _me_.” He stressed the last word in the ridiculous way that had become custom for a while now. “So Gus and I kind of asked your sister Lauren if you liked anything Christmassy. She mentioned that you’re boring and stuff, well okay that was actually just _Gus_ , but anyways she said that you had some old ornaments from Sheriff Hank.”

Shawn knew that Lassiter wasn’t as grumpy or violent as most people at the police department thought he was, yet he couldn’t help expecting some kind of angry backlash at having gone behind the detective’s back to have secret get-togethers with his sister. Especially secret get-together that had been made to talk about _him_. So it came as a surprise to Shawn when Carlton suddenly pulled him against his body with one arm, kissing the top of the consultant’s head.

“You’re impossible to figure out, aren’t you?” the detective asked, something lingering in his voice that reminded Shawn of the few times Lassiter had ever admitted how amazed he was at Shawn’s abilities.

For his part, Carlton hoped his actions spoke louder than his words at that moment because he didn’t know what to say. Most of the few good memories he had were of Old Sonora, and almost every year as a child one of the few things that brightened Carlton’s day during the holidays was to receive a Christmas present from Hank. More often than not he’d received those western-themed ornaments because Mrs. Lassiter rarely decorated the house with anything more than some lights, a small tree and a Nativity set, and Hank knew it meant the world to little Carlton to be able to put something on the tree that was solely his. It had always felt like he could take a piece of Old Sonora with him even when the town was closed during the Christmas season.

Grinning like he’d won a free autographed photo of Billy Zane, Shawn broke from the embrace long enough to grab the mugs of cocoa. “So you’re not mad that I had to sort of use your sister as a human decoy in order to steal those from your mom’s attic?” he asked, handing Carlton his cup. Shawn couldn’t help the laugh that escaped as the detective almost choked on his mouthful of hot chocolate.

After swallowing and managing to clear his windpipe, Lassiter swore. “That’s where these went?” he asked, apparently more upset at his own mother than at Shawn. “Should have known she would stuff them away somewhere and lie when I asked about them. That stubborn, aggravating, lying…” After fuming for a few moments, Carlton shook his head. Looking from Shawn to the ornaments helped his anger to calm. “Well, I guess the real point is that you found them. That was… really thoughtful of you.”

Shawn drank more of his cocoa and wiggled his eyebrows. “So does that mean you’ll help decorate the tree?” he asked after wiping away a chocolate and whip cream moustache. “As a thank you present? After all this means I’ve already given you a present and it isn’t even Christmas yet. You’d better step up your game, man.”

Carlton actually laughed aloud at that. “It isn’t Christmas yet? You know it isn’t even _December_ yet, right?” he wondered in amusement. “Do you always start celebrating the day after Thanksgiving?”

Shawn looked at him like there was no other possible answer to that question besides a resounding yes. “Of course I do! If the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade has Santa Clause then that mean’s it’s officially the Christmas holiday season. Tomorrow we’re going to decorate the _outside_ of the apartments. I already asked the new manager for permission and they said yes, so I hope you can rent a cherry picker because the balcony is boring and I expect to keep going until this place looks _wild_.”

Carlton couldn’t decide if Shawn was crazy or exactly the kind of ridiculous person he needed to keep his life from being lonely and boring. The answer was probably somewhere in the middle. He’d have to talk Shawn out of the whole cherry-picker business tomorrow, but for the moment he decided that cuddling with hot cocoa and nothing to keep him from having a leisurely morning was a good route to take.

“You know, I prefer my hot chocolate with cinnamon-sugar sprinkled on top. Just for future reference.” he couldn’t resist saying, lip curling into a grin when Shawn looked at him with mock-outrage.

“Don’t ruin the moment Lassie.” Shawn insisted, curling his legs onto the couch so he could scoot closer without knocking over any boxes of breakable ornaments. He tucked his head against Carlton’s chest and prodded his side gently. “I slaved over that cocoa and I expect you to feel the love. The _love_ Lassie, you have to feel it in the chocolaty, artery-clogging, liquid Christmassy goodness. I will have nothing less.”

“Whatever you say.” Carlton just grumbled with a smirk, giving a poke to Shawn’s side in retaliation.

Later, when they’d both finished their cocoa, Carlton was somehow tricked into being the one who untangled all the lights while Shawn picked up and organized the boxes of ornaments so both of them could walk without the threat of broken limbs. When the lights were finally wrapped around plastic green and white branches and the ornaments were placed with sporadic love from the top to the bottom of the tree, Carlton realized he’d begun to hum softly.

He’d spent the morning decorating a Christmas tree for the first time in years while the same damn song played over and over again in the background like a weird chant. The cheery, loud melody had crawled its way into his brain like an ear-worm over the past hours, but as he teased Shawn about being tall enough to put the star on the top of the tree, the detective found he didn’t really mind.

For once, it looked like he was going to have a very nice Christmas, and it was probably going to be done whilst rocking around their Christmas tree.

 


	2. Two Candy Canes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have way too much fun finding ridiculous words and phrases for the way Lassiter thinks, and I feel like I always end up writing these fics from his sort of view. I hope no one minds (since there's one that's more from Shawn's view coming up anyways).

It wasn’t a joke.

He just had to keep telling himself that, and maybe he’d start to believe it. This was meant to spread some manner of obnoxiously festive, do-gooder “holiday spirit” flapdoodle and it wasn’t _actually_ meant as a sick joke to torment him with.

He just had to think it over and over like a mantra; _it was not a joke, it was not a joke, it was not-_

“This was Dobson’s idea wasn’t it?” Lassiter grumbled to himself, staring at the innocently wrapped pieces of sugary despair that had been collected neatly into a clean, unused coffee mug on his desk. They were all so cute, curved and striped with red and white, and the detective absolutely hated them.

“It’s always stupid candy canes isn’t it?” he murmured, asking no one. Carlton tried to ignore the way McNab scurried away suddenly after accidentally meeting his glare. “This is either the stupidest idea ever, a practical joke, or someone is making a less-than-subtle attempt on my life!” The volume in his angry tone began to rise towards the end and he slammed his hand against the desk with a rather noticeable bang.

It was just as Lassiter was stacking some papers that had gone rogue from the impact, growling under his breath, that Juliet came around the corner with some folders clutched close. She was looking at him pointedly. “Come on Carlton, you know this wasn’t a deliberate attack on you. It’s just something people are doing to try and be nice. You know, for Christmas?” She’d obviously heard his rather loud complaints and was frowning, leaning against the side of his desk. “It’s not like everyone here knows you’re allergic to mint.”

The head detective looked less than impressed by his more chipper partner. “It’s in my file in case of emergencies, O’Hara. There’s no acceptable defense for these lousy excuses for police officers to not know that.” He huffed irritably, still glaring at the dozen or so candy canes that had collected on his desk, untouched, over the past few days.

Someone in the department (possibly McNab, possibly some other well-meaning officer), had started the idea that everyone should give each other candy canes throughout the week before Christmas. It was meant to be a way to help liven the spirits of everyone at the S.B.P.D. but Carlton was the only unfortunate person to not be able to partake in any merriment. As such, while his pile of unopened winter treats grew, so did his grumpiness. This only added fuel to the fire of course, because some of the friendlier officers had attempted to lighten Lassiter’s sour mood by giving him even _more c_ andy canes, not realizing the error of their ways.

Somehow, the detective seemed not to take into account the idea that anyone even cared enough to try and give him something special for the holidays. Instead, Lassiter’s distaste for the treats and general self-doubt had clouded his judgment and only aided in his belief that people were giving him the candy canes out of obligation or were trying to pull some kind of prank.

For her part, Juliet had no problem ignoring Lassiter’s usual insults at his colleagues and getting to the root of her friend’s problem. “You and I both know that if anyone but the Chief tried to look at your file you’d probably threaten to shoot them. Not to mention, you’re not exactly forthcoming about yourself so I doubt anyone else knows that you can’t eat the candy canes.” she said matter-of-factly.  “It’s not because they don’t care Carlton- I mean, I only found out by accident trying to plan a surprise party, and we all know how well _that_ birthday went.”

Lassiter rolled his eyes but seemed to take on the same look of defeat and sullenness that told his partner he wasn’t just upset about the mistake; he was feeling left out and wouldn’t admit it. If anyone else had worn such an expression, the word Juliet would have used to describe it was _pouting_. Fortunately, Juliet O’Hara was the best partner Lassiter could have had (or she certainly hoped so), and had already come prepared.

“Lucky for you, I _do_ know about a certain someone’s allergy and figured you might like something nice too.” She smiled wide and pulled a small object out from underneath the folders she’d been carrying. It was a candy cane much like all the rest, only this one was striped in two different kinds of red- one pale, one dark.

Carlton tentatively took the curved stick with a critically raised brow, but when he gave it a quick sniff through the wrapper, he smelled what could only be artificial cinnamon. Blue eyes brightened. “Should have known I could count on you, partner.” he said in earnest sincerity, smiling slightly. He put the candy aside for later, but noticed that O’Hara was still standing before his desk, looking at him eagerly.

“Well?” she asked politely, trying to hide her smile but failing as per usual.

Lassiter blinked a few times in confusion and then gave a half-hearted sigh. “What?” he asked, amusement slipping into his voice after his partner’s peace offering had tempered some of his irritation.

Juliet looked fondly exasperated, rolling her eyes. “Oh come on Carlton, don’t I get something nice in return?” she teased lightly, eyeing his more or less useless stash of candies. “It’s only fair, isn’t it?”

Realizing what she wanted, Lassiter grabbed two candy canes from the mug and tossed them at her, much to Juliet’s delight. “Knock yourself out.” he said. “I would give you the rest of those damn things, but no doubt Spencer will probably just weasel them away no matter who has them. I figured I’d just give them up when he and Guster come by later and save everyone some trouble.”

Juliet pocketed the sticks. “That’s really sweet, you know.” she said with a grin, the kind that said she knew Lassiter was secretly a big softie when it came to people he cared about. “I’m sure Shawn will be very happy for the gift.”

The consultant had been at the station earlier in the day looking for work and sneaking Lassiter something for lunch. Juliet had been very hard-pressed not to point out how adorably domestic the gesture had been, but she managed to refrain for the sake of her partner’s ego. Fortunately it had been a slow and mostly uneventful afternoon at the station, so there wasn’t anything for Psych to be hired for and the duo left to go run amok somewhere else. Of course, not until Shawn had promised to be back when Lassiter’s shift ended; to whisk the detective away before he could get caught up doing paperwork for all hours of the night (which often happened).

Lassiter must have been thinking about Shawn as well because he flushed slightly at Juliet’s remark. “Yeah well, he’d better not expect any other shows of affection for the next few days if he keeps eating all those damn candy canes.” he said gruffly.

Juliet laughed at the idea of Shawn begging for a kiss and being denied on account of a candy. “I’ll let you and Shawn figure that one out.” she said with a smirk, making her way back to her own desk to get back to work. “But if you promise to stop glaring so much, I’ll try to spread the word around that you can’t actually eat the candies; that should stop everyone from trying to bring you any more of them.”

Lassiter looked somewhat pleased, but couldn’t help a final remark. “You’ll probably only encourage them by doing that, you know.” he called across the room, gesturing with the cinnamon candy cane like it was a tiny weapon. “I’m still not entirely convinced that someone won’t use that info in an assassination attempt.”

He heard her giggling for a good few minutes after that, but let it slide (Christmas spirit and all that). Even as Carlton buried his nose in paperwork though, he couldn’t help the frown that slowly worked its way back onto his features. He hadn’t been kidding about the “shows of affection” when talking to O’Hara; Shawn would no doubt be just as crazy about the minty treats as anyone else during the holiday season, and that meant being taunted for days because kisses were off limits if candy canes were involved.

Mind wandering from his own moping to the work at hand, Lassiter put the issue out of his mind as best he could. It wasn’t until later, as Guster’s voice suddenly broke through the soft hush of the bullpen, riddled with irritation that could only be caused by one person, that Carlton realized how many hours had passed in thoughtful silence and mindless form-filling.

“I’m just saying, if you two love-birds were going to go home together anyways, I don’t see why detective Lassiter couldn’t just pick you up from the Psych office when he was finished. He’s driving you home anyways, why did I have to be brought into this?” the man was saying, sounding equally irritated with Lassiter as he was with Shawn for the inconvenience.

Never one to be separated from his best friend, Shawn was trailing a few more leisurely paces behind his best friend’s disgruntled power-walk. “Gus, you know Lassie never just gets off of work unless he’s got some kind of _motivation_.” The consultant’s words were slurred slightly and as he worked them over, Carlton heard the slick squish and pop of someone talking around something in their mouth.

He felt his stomach drop as the two rounded the corner and he spotted something long and striped sticking out of Shawn’s mouth. Lassiter dropped his head back to his paperwork with a scowl, listening to the footsteps of the approaching men instead.

“And besides,” Shawn continued, “I wanted to give Lassie a present.”

Guster didn’t sound convinced. “It had better be a family-friendly sort of present or you’ll have to find someone else to drive you next time you need something.” he said. Carlton could hear the tone of disgust and couldn’t decide if he should smirk or take offence. “Besides, why couldn’t you just give it to him at the Psych office, or even when you two were back home?”

The duo must have stopped by O’Hara’s desk, because their conversation was interrupted. “Hey guys.” Juliet said amiably, but switched to a partial whisper. “It’s nice of you to make sure Carlton gets home at a decent hour, Shawn. You’d better get going; he’s been a bit extra grumpy today because everyone keeps trying to give him candy canes and he can’t have any.”

Lassiter did not appreciate his partner gossiping about him, even if her efforts were well-meant. “I haven’t been ‘extra grumpy’, I’m always like this.” he grumbled loud enough for the others to hear. Of course, the fact that he was still pointedly ignoring his boyfriend might have proven O’Hara’s point despite his protests.

“Aw, Lassie doesn’t get any goodies today.” Shawn said, sincere despite the goofy look that came from smiling around a candy stick. “That’s why I’m here!” He scurried over and parked his rear on the corner of Lassiter’s desk like he always did, kicking his feet as he bent over his boyfriend’s hunched form. At least this time all the papers and important files had been stacked over to the opposite side and away from anyone’s butt, so Lassiter tried hard not to bristle at the invasion of space.

“Just give me a minute to finish this before I go.” he mumbled, gesturing to the file he’d been staring blankly at. Carlton didn’t really want to go home yet, since Shawn would only grill him about his day and try to tell him how he’d been getting upset over things that were trivial. It wasn’t that his boyfriend didn’t mean well, but Shawn was overly optimistic, and never serious enough, and ridiculous, and blunt, and, and-

And he was prodding Lassiter in the cheek like a small child wanting attention. “Lassie…” he said happily, drawing out the name in a sing-song fashion. The slurring had gone and Carlton could see the candy cane clutched between Shawn fingers just at the edge of his peripheral vision.

Exasperated, the detective finally shifted to look at Shawn, wholly prepared to shoo him away in order to clean up his desk before leaving. Instead, just as Carlton’s head turned towards his boyfriend, he felt warm lips, soft and sticky, press against his cheek.

“What-” he started to say, unable to finish the last part as something was suddenly shoved between his parted lips. Before Lassiter’s brain could catch up, his mouth involuntarily snapped shut and it took him a moment to realize that spicy cinnamon flavor was washing over his tongue from the candy cane Shawn had been licking only moments before.

Removing his lips with an overly dramatic smacking sound, Shawn grinned cheekily. “There, now you get something sweet too, Lassie.” he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “You also get a candy cane, but personally I think I‘m much sweeter.”

There was a laugh of delight from Juliet and a groan that was probably from Guster, but Carlton was too busy sputtering in a rather undignified manner, unsure of what to say. The detective should have known by now that Shawn knew far more than he ever let on, but the thoughtful gift came as an honest surprise. It wasn’t just that Shawn remembered Lassiter’s allergy, it was also the underlying meaning behind such a small token; Shawn was apparently willing to forego some minty goodness for his sake, and Carlton Lassiter was not accustomed to people doing such things on his behalf.

Still unused to open displays of affection, despite all the time Shawn had groped him during his “psychic episodes”, Carlton cleared his throat a bit awkwardly and opted to show his return affection in a much more casual, but still well-meant gesture. “Right, well… you might as well take my candy canes then, if you want, since I don’t need them. Guster too, if it will keep the both of you out of my hair for another few minutes.” he said, taking the candy cane out before speaking (because Shawn might like to sound like an idiot, but he did not).

It was an offering of his own, telling Shawn that he appreciated the gesture, but that Shawn didn’t have to choose between having one or the other (kisses or mint candies). He could have both, which Carlton knew was Shawn’s preferred sort of living with most things anyways. At least, that’s what the detective _hoped_ the offer conveyed, because he was never one for obtuse communication. Usually he just preferred to say what he meant or let his opinions and desires simmer unsaid under the surface, but the latter never really worked out well for him or anyone else, so he figured it couldn’t hurt to try something new.

Whatever significance Shawn got from the gesture was hard to know, but he looked pleased just the same. “You have just awoken the beast Lassie, I hope you know that.” he said excitedly, grabbing the handful of candy canes before giving half to his best friend.

Guster let out a “What!” of delight as the two fist-bumped, then he eagerly began to unwrap the first of his treats. He pocketed the others, looking a lot more pleased then when he’d first come in. “I hope you don’t expect those to last until Christmas.” he added, looking pointedly at Lassiter. Thankfully, Guster had the decency to take the candy out of his mouth before speaking. “Shawn will have those gone before the weekend, you know.”

Shawn didn’t bother to wait for his candy either, but unlike his best friend, he once again started talking with his mouth full. “There’s no going back now, Lassie.” he warned seriously. “You’ll have to take responsibility for anything Gus and I might do in our sugar-induced haze. Candy canes are serious business. I have been known to forget to wear clothes outside the house after having too many, and Gus once tried to eat a little girl’s scarf because it had red and white stripes.”

Lassiter was caught somewhere between ignoring Shawn’s ridiculous stories, and being worried that the strange accounts might actually be true. After a few moments of weighing his options, Carlton just rolled his eyes and took a neutral stance. “Oh put a lid on it and get something from the snack machine, will you?” he said, no real malice behind the words. “I need to go put these folders away before we go.”

Shawn hopped from the desk and gave a salute. “Yes sir, Lassie sir.” he said with a wink, grinning wide but doing as he was told for once and dragging his friend along with him. The two were soon out of sight and Lassiter quickly cleaned up his desk, putting away the stray files and folders so he could go home.

When he came back to his desk, grabbing his jacket from the back of a chair, Lassiter looked down at the two cinnamon candy canes lying unevenly on his desk; one perfectly fresh and wrapped, the other already open and partially eaten.

He smiled secretly to himself, putting the unopened one in his jacket pocket and slipping the one from Shawn between his lips.

Carlton might not have had a cup full of candy canes from his coworkers to eat throughout the week, but he had two, from the people that mattered most, and that was enough for him.


	3. Three Boughs of Holly

When it came to holiday decorations, Shawn was the self-proclaimed Mistletoe Chief, Bauble Inspector, official Holiday Tree Picker, and had even gained the coveted Coordinator of Candles award (though that didn’t always go very well- he blamed Gus’s lousy matches). Made up or not, he took said titles, and Christmas decorating, as seriously as he was capable of taking anything. Being Shawn’s best friend, Gus of course got to be everything else in between when it came to sprucing up the Psych office or his own house (sometimes against the man’s will, but Shawn refused to allow his best friend to be boring and not festive), and if Juliet happened to stop by, Shawn wasn’t opposed to taking her opinion into account if tinsel issues required some backup.

However, he never remembered giving himself the title of Holly Head-Honcho or anything similar. So it came as a surprise, one December morning, when he arrived at the Psych office hoping to have a case, and instead came face to face with a long strand of holly hanging across the top of the front door.

The berries were bright red and the leaves sticking up in all different directions, but it was even more unusual and surprising to find that the bough appeared to be made from real, living plants. Everyone that was even somewhat frugal and filled with common sense knew that buying live decorations wasn’t a good idea; such things only lasted one year and tended to rot as soon as Christmas was over (sometimes earlier if bought too early).

Shawn entered the office briefly walking backwards as he continued to think about the odd decoration. “Gus! Buddy, why’d you buy real holly? You’re just going to have to spend more money getting new stuff next year!” he called out. As he spotted Gus sitting at his desk, Shawn raised an eyebrow, pointing to the doorway he’d just come from in question.

Looking up from his computer, Gus made a face of distaste. “I wasn’t the one who forgot to look at whether the thing I was buying was made of plastic or not.” he quipped, shaking his head. “And you know that Holly is traditional to winter because the leaves stay fresh-looking and green even in harsh weather conditions, right? That’s the whole point.”

Plopping down into his chair and picking up a baseball that sat on one corner of the desk, Shawn tossed it back and forth between his hands. “Dude, of course I don’t know that, because I don’t think _botany_ is a fun hobby for anyone under the age of sixty.” he replied, rolling his eyes. When Gus frowned at him he tried to return to the original question at hand. “Anyways, that’s not the point. Did you or did you not put the holly up on the front door?” he asked, figuring it would be easier to get a straight answer if he cut their usual banter a little short.

For his part, Gus just looked confused. “No, I thought you put it up.” he said. “You’re the one who’s always giving himself new labels about decorating; I thought you just wanted to add another one. You know, like scout patches or something.” He shrugged.

Now, Shawn was even more confused. If it wasn’t either of them, then that meant someone nefarious was messing with them, or someone they knew had decided to pitch in a little Christmas spirit. It was more likely the latter, since holly didn’t exactly seem all that threatening.

Shawn tried to think who might have decided to add the decoration to his work abode. “You don’t think my dad would put something up, would you?” he asked after a moment of contemplation, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the desk, staring up at the ceiling.

“Not likely.” Gus answered immediately, all too familiar with Henry Spencer and his habits. “I mean, he doesn’t have anything against Christmas or decorations I guess, but he usually makes you do the hard work with putting up lights and stuff.” He paused, probably thinking. “And he’s more likely to put something up as a joke. Holly is actually very traditional and classy. It dates back hundreds of years. You know, the romans used to-”

“Sorry, stopping you there.” Shawn leapt from his chair, heading for the door in a hurry.

Gus scowled but let the issue go, knowing Shawn wasn’t going to be interested in a history lesson when he thought there was a case to be solved (even one as small as mysteriously placed greenery). “Where are you going?” he asked instead.

“To the station.” Shawn replied, gesturing for Gus to follow. “Jules might have wanted to give us an early Christmas present but we were out, so she decided to put up some decorations. We can ask her when we get there. Plus we don’t have any private cases right now, and I for one would love some holiday spending money.”

“Oh please, like you haven’t already planned on buying everyone presents with _my_ credit card.” Gus said with a huff, but he grabbed a jacket and followed after Shawn. “I’ll let it slide in honor of the holiday spirit, but the next few checks we get had better go to paying bills or I’m not bailing you out when the power shuts off. _Again_.”

Shawn waved a hand dismissively at his friend, climbing into the passenger seat of the Blueberry. “Yeah, yeah, boring payments, being ‘responsible’ and all that stuff. Hey, in the meantime though, I’m thinking of getting Lassie something extra nice for Christmas this year. Maybe a new gun cleaning kit or some better shirts. It’s not that I don’t dig the workaholic look, but he would totally benefit from some chilling-out clothes.”

Pulling away from the office, Gus eyed Shawn in his peripheral vision. “Whatever it is, you’d better not be buying anything too expensive.” he said. “I’m not a bottomless pit of money, you know.”

Shawn grinned wide, realizing he had a perfect opening. “Oh, nothing too expensive; just a couple Ferraris, a puppy for McNab… ooh maybe a diamond bracelet for Jules. Should I go for twenty four karat gold, or does she seem like a platinum kind of girl to you?”

Gus grit his teeth, telling himself over and over that killing his best friend was not only illegal and morally wrong, but very messy and time consuming. Plus, Lassiter probably had first-dibs on that sort of thing anyways, and Gus was smart enough not to come between a homicidal gun-nut and said gun-nut’s annoying boyfriend. Instead, he took a deep breath.

“Very funny, Shawn.” he said, trying not to think of his bank account dropping into negative digits in only a few days. “Just don’t go too crazy, okay?” Gus was practically pleading.

Shawn gave a sigh, but patted his friend on the shoulder. “Aw come on man, I’m just messing with you.” he said seriously. Gus looked him in the eye briefly, and Shawn gave his most genuine and innocent smile. “I promise I won’t buy Lassie or anyone else anything too expensive”.

Gus seemed to be mulling the vow over as he concentrated on the road ahead. After a few moments of thoughtful silence, Shawn felt Gus’s shoulders finally relax.

That was his cue. “Besides, I don’t think a prostate massager and vibrating cock ring will cost all that much.” Shawn said gleefully. “And you’ll be making Lassie _really_ happy.”

It came as no surprise that Gus nearly swerved into a parked van and refused to speak for the rest of the drive.

*             *             * 

By the time the two walked into the bullpen, Shawn had already laughed hard enough his sides hurt, and then proceeded to promise Gus that he wasn’t actually going to buy any kind of sex toys on the man’s credit card. Gus was surprisingly good at the silent treatment when he wanted to be and Shawn did actually apologize, knowing how disturbed Gus could get at the idea of Lassiter on a normal day, without the added trauma of steamy gay sex involving his best friend. Of course, the apologies did little to bring color back into Gus’s face after he laid eyes on the head detective and blanched alarmingly.

While Gus took a few minutes to splash cold water on his face in the men’s bathroom, hoping to get too many terrifying mental images out of his head, Shawn happily headed over to Juliet’s desk to say hello and ask her about the holly on the Psych office door.

Just as he rounded to face her and give his usual greeting, Shawn spotted a long row of green leaves and red berries, hung neatly along the edge of Juliet’s desk. “Oh, I see how it is Jules.” he said cheekily as he approached, leaning over the detective’s desk and wiggling his eyebrows. “You wanted us to match. Well I hate to say it to such a sweet face Jules, but I am sadly taken. Lassie doesn’t really like to share.”

Juliet was shuffling some papers when Shawn had walked by and she laughed at his remarks, smiling like she was sharing a secret. “Is that so?” she said without missing a beat, looking over at her partner and then staring at Shawn is mock-awe. “And here I thought Carlton was just leading you on until you were comfortable enough for a threesome. I’m sure Gus will be _so_ disappointed.”

Considering the earlier conversation he’d had, the joking remark sent Shawn roaring with laughter, Juliet joining in more softly. Lassiter told them both to knock it off of course, but Shawn wasn’t surprised; Carlton had left extra early that morning (likely to get some paperwork done), so he probably hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before.

Not wanting to annoy his boyfriend too badly, Shawn did his best to quiet his laughter, and didn’t try speaking to Juliet again until after his giggling had fully subsided.

“So Jules, not that I don’t enjoy joking around at Lassie’s expense, I am actually here on serious Christmas-time business.” he said, grabbing a nearby chair to take a seat. He’d normally sit on the edge of the desk, but Juliet’s was full of papers, and he preferred to park his butt on Lassiter’s desk anyways.

Apparently not too busy to chat, Juliet’s eyes lit up a bit. “What sort of business is that, then?” she asked.

Shawn poked at some of the holly leaves across the front of the desk. “This holly.” he said, trying to lift the bough into view without detaching it. “Your desk matches the Psych office now. It’s actually kinda cool, even if Gus makes holly sound boring.”

Juliet’s eyebrows went up. “Really?” she sounded surprised. “I was wondering who put that here. You’re a lot sneakier than I thought, Shawn, to put this up before I got to work.” She looked very pleased, smiling at him fondly as if he’d done something nice.

Of course, now Shawn had to reevaluate his theory. “Wait, so you didn’t put up holly at the Psych office?” he asked, genuinely confused. He would have bet good money that it had been the detective. “Gus and I found it there this morning, and I thought maybe you put it there as a present or something. I mean, it’s on your desk everything.”

Juliet shook her head. “Sorry, I didn’t put it there. I’m honestly surprised it wasn’t you. I thought Gus said you were the one who always decorates? At his house, your dad’s place, the office… come to think of it, weren’t you the one that brought all the mistletoe to last year’s Christmas party?” she eyed him suspiciously.

Shawn was saved from further interrogation as Gus finally decided to join them. When Shawn looked around, he noticed that Lassiter was conspicuously missing, probably getting coffee or in the file room, which had likely prompted Gus’s sudden appearance.

“Sorry I’m late.” he said, nodding at Juliet and saying hello. “So, do we have you to thank for the holly outside our office?” he asked, looking over the matching bough that adorned the detective’s desk.

Juliet shook her head, twirling a pen between her fingers. “Nope, just like I told Shawn, I’m as in the dark as you are about this mysterious decorator.” she said. “It’s a very nice gift though. I mean, holly is so classy and traditional this time of year. I’ve heard it’s supposed to bring good luck.”

“Really?” Gus was suddenly interested. “You know, the Druids believed that holly could protect someone’s home from lightning strikes.” he offered, clearly happy to find someone willing to listen to his unusual knowledge of Christmas foliage.

While the two were content to discuss the decoration, Shawn was still no closer to figuring out who had decided to go around decorating in secret. He’d probably have to call his dad later, just to be sure he could be ruled out, but in the meantime, he had bills to pay and Lassiter had returned from where he’d disappeared to (the morgue, it turned out).

The consultant scurried over to his boyfriend’s desk, perching on the edge of it just as Lassiter was sitting down, and proceeded to pester him about new cases. The mysterious holly boughs would have to wait until later.

*             *             * 

“Okay, this is definitely not a coincidence.” Shawn muttered aloud, staring at the door to his and Lassiter’s shared apartment. There was another identical bough of fresh, real holly strung over their door, and it seemed to Shawn that he was either missing something important, or someone was actually out to get him.

Whoever had put up the decoration must have done it while he and Lassiter had been out, or Shawn had missed it earlier that morning when he’d left (entirely possible, despite his powers of observation, as he’d been focused on calling Gus about smoothies). Lassiter would probably have called it enemy action if he was there, and Shawn was wondering if maybe his boyfriend’s paranoia wasn’t rubbing off on him, because when he entered the apartment, he made sure to do it as quietly as possible.

After checking all the rooms for intruders, the floors, doors, and windows for any evidence of a break in or booby-traps, and looking through all available vents for any jars of nefarious liquids (one time was definitely more than enough), Shawn sat on the couch in confusion.

Neither he nor Gus had put the holly up (he would definitely remember doing something like that, no matter what kind of animal Gus accused him of becoming after eating too many flaming-hot Cheetos), it hadn’t been Juliet, and he’d even double-checked with his dad and McNab earlier in the day. There weren’t a lot of people that knew where he and Lassiter lived (Carlton didn’t like the idea of people having his address), and family members were probably out of the picture. That meant the only people who would have a connection between Juliet, Psych, _and_ his apartment, were coworkers. It was either that, or…

“Shawn! You’d better not be planning to leave your shoes in front of the door again!” Lassiter’s voice boomed from the front entrance and Shawn realized he hadn’t even noticed the sound of the door opening. “I brought some files from the Lorenzo case, if you’re willing to put your slacker ass to work after dinner.” the detective was saying, the sounds of shoes being taken off and a tie being slipped from its knot quite familiar to Shawn.

It wasn’t until Shawn wandered out from the living room, watching as Carlton took off his holster and slung it over the back of a chair alongside his tie, that he realized something vital; Lassiter hadn’t checked the house. He’d waltzed in like it was any normal day, and if Shawn had been concerned enough to check the apartment, then Lassiter should have been drawing his gun and calling for backup, not sitting down for a cup of coffee and some leftover takeout.

The detective had to have heard Shawn and Juliet talking about how they hadn’t put up the holly in their respected places of business; it wasn’t like they’d been whispering about it. So surely, Lassiter couldn’t have thought that the decoration on the door (the door to _his home_ ),had come from Shawn. Yet he didn’t seem worried or concerned for the safety of his household one tiny bit.

That could only mean…

“Lassie… did you put holly on our door?” Shawn asked abruptly, cutting off whatever it was Carlton had been talking about. He stood barefoot in the dining room, probably more confused by his boyfriend than he had been in some time, because unless Shawn was mistaken, Carlton Lassiter had gone behind everyone’s back and put up Christmas decorations.

It didn’t make much sense.

Strange or not, Shawn got his confirmation as soon as Lassiter averted his gaze, staring instead into a case file as if it might hold the secrets to the universe. “Yes.” the detective said curtly, making that little noise in the back of his throat like he was trying to clear it without anyone noticing. “You’ve been saying that you wanted me to help with the decorations this year so I, uh… took initiative.”

Code red, _code red!_

Or maybe it was code pink, because that was definitely the color that the tips of Carlton’s ears were turning, no matter how composed his facial features might have been. Shawn grabbed one of the other dining table chairs, swinging it around so he could drop onto it with his arms rested across the back rest.

“Aw, Lassie, were you trying to surprise me?” he asked, smiling slyly in the belief that he’d caught his boyfriend trying to be sneaky. “You could have just told me that you wanted a piece of the holiday action; you know I’m totally prepared to get freaky with the tinsel, but if traditional is more your thing I’m sure we can find some old-school ribbon around here somewhere.”

_That_ made Lassiter finally look up, even if it was just to glare. “No.” he said sternly, shaking a finger at Shawn. “No, _no_ we are _not_ doing anything ‘freaky’ with the tinsel or the ribbon or any other kind of holiday decoration!” he said, obviously afraid that any leniency would give Shawn the green light to go wild.

“Calm down Mr. Grinch, I’m kidding. Well, okay not entirely, but I promise not to ruin any good furniture.” Shawn winked but it didn’t seem to calm Carlton down any. “Okay fine, no late-night play time in Christmas Town.” he conceded, pouting just a little. “The elves would probably be scarred anyways. But seriously, what’s the holly for? I mean I get decorating here, but you put it up at the Psych office and on Jules’s desk, didn’t you?”

Lassiter shifted in his seat, trying valiantly not to look awkward and, as usual, failing miserably. “Alright, yes I put up the holly.” he finally said, sounding like he’d given up on trying to hide or lie when he knew it would be pointless anyways. There was a definite agitation to his voice, and he tried to wave Shawn away towards the fridge, resting his chin morosely on one open palm and staring down at some papers. “It’s just a stupid tradition I picked up from an old relative. It’s not really that important, so I wasn’t going to mention it.”

Shawn knew that if Lassiter was trying to downplay something after it had been forced out into the open, then it actually meant a lot more to him than he let on, and he was just worried about looking foolish. Since normal interrogation techniques didn’t tend to work for Shawn on his favorite bed buddy, he vacated his chair, grabbed Lassiter’s by the back rest, and pulled it a few feet from the table.

“What are you-” Carlton tried to protest but in another moment he had a lap full of Shawn and the consultant’s hands were twining around his neck.

“Come on Lassie, why’d you really put up the holly?” Shawn asked, tilting his head in a way he hoped meant “serious business”, but probably just looked cute. “I’m not going to laugh, I promise! Gus still leaves organic carrots for Santa’s reindeer every year. And lactose-free milk! Do I say anything about it? Nope! Not a thing, because I’m just extra special like that.” He grinned. “Plus Gus has been my best friend since basically forever, so he’d probably just get back at me anyways and then there’d be a Christmas prank war at the station, and no one wants that. Well, maybe someone does, but you probably don’t.”

Lassiter was staring at him in confusion, eyes large and open in a way only Shawn and Juliet generally got to see. It was obvious he’d been lost somewhere in the middle of Shawn’s babbling, so the pseudo-psychic rolled his eye and gave Carlton a kiss on the cheek before pulling away.

“The point is, if this tradition is important to you, then just say so. I can totally add it to my Christmas decoration list. You know, all the good oldies like holly and eggnog and those candles people put on their fireplaces, right next to the Star Trek Christmas lights and that Michal Jackson bobble head I put on the tree.” Shawn hoped his sincerity transferred to his words, because he knew how grumpy and reclusive the detective could get if he thought he was being ridiculed, especially about something personal or intimate, such as a family tradition he’d yet to change.

Carlton opened his mouth but no sound came out so he shut it again, looking from the man in his lap to the other bizarre decorations that adorned their apartment. He’d somehow missed Shawn’s bobble head on the tree, and something about spotting the famous singer’s now over-sized face on his Christmas tree helped him to relax just a little.

“Alright, I guess you have the right to know.” he said, resting his hands on Shawn’s hips. “An uncle of mine used to always put holly up in his house and would bring some over every year. It was supposed to be good luck and… well it was meant as a symbol of protection.” he admitted softly, staring down at his own hands as he twisted the hem of Shawn’s shirt between his fingers nervously.

The grin on Shawn’s face probably looked about as dopey as one could get. Big, glaring, irritated Lassie was a big softie on the inside and had put up something for protection on their home, Shawn’s workplace, and on the desk of his partner. It took all of Shawn’s restraint not to just start peppering his boyfriend with kisses while telling him how adorable that was. Lassiter was a proud man, and Shawn knew it was sometimes better to play things a little more casual.

“Well, that’s better than what my grandma used to do.” he said lightly, tapping his fingers mindlessly on Lassiter’s shoulders. “She made me a sweater out of those ugly patterned fabrics that are supposed to be used for quilts. One year I had to wear one that had polar bears, turtle doves, gumdrops, _and_ Santa’s sleigh on it. _At the same time_.” He said the words like the very idea burned his insides.

Carlton looked disgusted. “Seriously?” he asked.

Shawn laughed. “Naw, grandma Spencer was great and couldn’t sew to save her life.” he said breezily. Lassiter chuckled, so Shawn figured that was a good sign. “I like the whole holly thing though- nice and classy for my classy Lassie. It will probably keep all the bad spirits out of the office and help me keep the psychic channels clear, too.”

Carlton shook his head, letting out a sigh suited only to the long suffering. “You’re not pulling that bullshit with me.” he said. His voice called for seriousness, but his shoulders were relaxed and there was a definite look of relief in his eyes. “I never believed in that mumbo-jumbo with the holly anyways. The tradition just sort of stuck around because I was used to it.”

Shawn didn’t believe that for a second, but he let the lie slide anyways. Whatever Lassiter’s reason, it was a sweet gesture. Maybe he’d get Gus to swing by some kind of flower store the next day so he could grab some holly too and put it on Carlton’s desk at work.

For now though, he was content to have dinner and look over case files; thinking of holly boughs, draped in three, their half-crescents like the smile he wore and kept for the remainder of the holiday season, grinning every time he came home and saw the bright berries and leaves strung up above the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't initially know what to do for the "third day of Christmas" prompt from the song, so I googled holly and found that it used to symbolize protection, thus this was born. I liked the idea that Lassiter would have some long-standing tradition rooted in the supernatural and folklore, despite his distaste for psychics and mysticism (since many people still practice certain traditions that are hundreds of years old, despite the origin of the traditions not making sense in modern times).
> 
> Of course, Lassiter is protective of the few people he decides to care about, so I knew instantly where to put the titular three boughs when writing the story.
> 
> Also, I'm apparently very fond of tormenting Gus when it comes to Shawn's relationship with Lassiter. I love you Gus, but you're easy to freak out and that makes for some very fun writing.


	4. Four Colored Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know why this one is shorter, but that's just how it's going to be I guess.
> 
> And just a note here, I have never actually seen any Clint Eastwood movies, but I came across a "Top 10 Western Gunfights" video on youtube and felt it necessary to have Shawn make some sort of reference to cheer Lassie up.

It was like looking at a crime scene; a motionless body tangled up with dark cords, lying on the floor of someone’s clean apartment and splayed out like a doll thrown haphazardly away. The display was chaotic, unexpected, and the pale body laid out on the hardwood stared up sightlessly at the ceiling above.

Except, the apartment didn’t belong to some stranger and the body was certainly not dead; despite the muffled noises of pain and despair coming from it as though the end would soon be near. Not to mention, there was no knife or gun or other means of common homicide lying anywhere to be seen. Instead there was just Carlton Lassiter, covered in at least a hundred feet or more of Christmas lights, none of which seemed to be working.

“I don’t understand it…” he was muttering softly to himself, looking almost deranged, and his hair was sticking up messily, having already been run through numerous times with long fingers. “There’s no way this many lights could be broken at the same time. They’re rigged somehow, they _have_ to be. It’s all a clever ploy during the holidays; just the goddamn capitalist market tricking good, hard-working people into buying useless junk. I don’t deserve this kind of treatment!”

The detective hadn’t even bothered trying to vacate the floor.

Shawn sat on the arm of the couch, staring down at his boyfriend, caught somewhere between casually concerned and on the verge of hysterics. It was rare to see Lassiter in such a state, and it usually only came about because of some unsolved problem that the detective believed to be a catastrophic personal failure- a stain on his allegedly unblemished record. While such problems usually pertained to work or Lassiter’s few chosen hobbies, this time the battle was one of patience, electronics, and tiny knots; no one could hold it against Shawn if he laughed at his night-time snuggle buddy’s current hilarious predicament.

When it had come time to decorate the outside of the apartment, Shawn had found dozens of tangled string lights in a box in his dad’s garage and he’d weaseled Carlton into doing the hard jobs. With the detective’s work ethic and ridiculous amount of diligence, Shawn thought it was a completely reasonable assumption that Lassiter would finish up in maybe an hour.

It appeared though, that this was among the many obscure challenges that Lassiter was unable to master (sitting somewhere between ballet dancing and adequate undercover work). Shawn took pity on his favorite detective and sat on the floor, grabbing a pillow to hold while he was down there. He was, after all, the very best boyfriend in the whole world (or at least in the lower, south-western half of California), and good boyfriends certainly didn't let their significant other’s die from Christmas cord strangulation.

Neither did _best friends_ of course, but Gus had still refused to come to Shawn’s aid for decorating, which was why Lassiter was currently suffering. It was a horrible betrayal from Burton "I'm going to let my best friend down instead of using my patience and fondness for boring things to help him" Guster.

_Disgraceful._

So, sitting above the detective’s head, Shawn leaned over Lassiter’s prone form, staring at him upside down. “Dude it looks like you were attacked in a dark alleyway and Christmas spirit was your mugger.” he said brightly. When he got no response, Shawn switched tactics, trying his best salesman voice. “Lassie my man, I think you might have missed a few lights. Did you try turning them off and on again? Have you taken them outside and blown on them repeatedly?”

Shawn thought they were all reasonable questions, but apparently that was not so. Lassiter suddenly bolted upright into a sitting position, still covered in cords and only just barely avoiding a collision between his forehead and Shawn’s prominent nose. He twisted around so they were face to face on the floor, brandishing the pronged end of a single line of lights. 

“How am I supposed to figure out which one goes where when everything is tangled up like this?” the detective asked, looking somewhat frantic. He had, after all, been trying to fix the lights for at least two hours.

Shawn might have needed to worry, though. He loved Lassiter, he really did, but his boyfriend currently seemed like he was a little… _unhinged_. Maybe just a teeny, tiny bit. 

“Every time I try to untangle one, another just gets caught up in the mess.” Carlton continued, fuming. “There are hundreds of bulbs on these things Shawn, _hundreds!_ Yet, due to no fault of mine, _these-_ ” he shook the cord in his hand rapidly, the bulbs clacking together, “- are the only lights that are working!”

Shawn stopped looking at Lassiter’s distraught face long enough for his eyes to follow the cord that wrapped around the man’s body, all the way over his arm, and up to the end that was being strangled in Lassiter’s grip. Every single row of lights was out and dark on the numerous lines, all except four- not four lines, but four separate  _lights_. Just a quartet of little glowing bulbs at the very beginning of the first light strand.

This time, Shawn didn’t bother trying to hide his laughter. It sort of burst out of him all at once as he looked at Lassiter's distraught face. The detective looked torn between anger and innocent confusion, like a lost child that had been tangled almost head to toe in broken string lights; the image was too hilarious for Shawn to contain himself. 

“It’s not funny!” Carlton snapped as Shawn fell onto his back, clutching his cushion in the throes of hysterics. “Nothing I do will fix these stupid electrical abominations! I’ve tried different plug sockets, I’ve tried untangling them, I’ve even tried _replacing the bulbs_. Nothing works! I have four goddamn lights when there should be a couple hundred. _Four!_ ”

That only made Shawn wail louder, practically cackling. “Oh my god, it’s Lassie verses the light monster- battle to the death!” he wheezed between breaths, trying not to sound like a tiny elf and failing as his voice pitched high from the lack of air. “They’re just lights, man! We can totally buy new ones. I mean, these are from my dad’s house so they were probably made before the dawn of time anyways.”

Letting out a bark of frustration, Lassiter did his best to flail and claw his way out of the lights that had ensnared him, finally succeeding in tossing the whole bundle of cords and bulbs a few feet away just as Shawn was starting to breathe normally again.

“I am never decorating with you ever again." Carlton declared, crossing his arms to match his legs. "This was not cheerful or festive, it was a suicide mission!” He glared daggers, but not at his boyfriend; instead the frosty stare had been directed towards the pile of mangled lights. “I would rather put googly-eyes and Christmas hats on oranges, and then hand them out to strangers.” Lassiter growled.

Shawn snorted loudly, apparently not quite finished laughing. “Cutting me deep now, Lassie.” he retorted. “You know that was going to be my Secret Santa gift for everyone at the station! I even got Gus to make the tiny hats; he added some green ones this year for variety!”

Lassiter groaned loudly and suddenly put his head in his heads, pressing his fingers against his eyes as if to rid himself of a headache. He mumbled something from behind his palms, but whatever it had been was lost; Shawn could only make out a few muffled curses as they slipped past the detective's hands. 

“Alright fine, I’ll give my dad his lights back and we can get Gus to come over and fix the lights next weekend.” Shawn offered, hoping to help. “For real this time. I mean, he likes organizing things anyways, so it’s a win-win type of thing. You and I each get a win, and Gus probably gets free food otherwise he’ll just whine at me for making him work.” Shawn scratched the back of his head in thought. “Do we still have those tiny wieners? We could get some of those... although I think Gus might be more of a Cool Ranch Doritos kind of guy.”

Carlton just groaned again. He hadn’t removed his hands and seemed no less agitated than before, despite Shawn’s best efforts in appeasing him. In fact, if the drooping shoulders were anything to go by, the consultant had to assume that Lassiter wasn’t even as angry anymore- just defeated. Anger, grouchiness, and general irritability were usually hilarious and easily fixed with some good old Shawn Spencer lovin’, but defeat was different; that wasn’t allowed in the Sharlton Spenssiter household and needed to be immediately remedied.

Fortunately, Shawn was rarely at a loss for ideas. “You know… I bet we could sneak those babies into the department shooting range.” he said cautiously, watching as Lassiter slowly opened one eye in interest, staring at Shawn between his fingers. “Yeah! We just have to truss up some cutouts like a tree with those lights, and them _bam!_ Christmas Revenge at its finest- _Lassie style_. You’ll be like Clint Eastwood in _Unforgiven_ when he kills all those guys to avenge his friend. Except, you’ll be avenging your honor and breaking light bulbs instead.”

_That_ certainly put a dangerous sparkle back into the detective’s eyes. Lassiter was standing in an instant, offering a hand to help Shawn up (a clear sign that he was definitely feeling better). “You bet your sweet ass I will.” he said excitedly, pointing to the discarded decorations. “Grab those and any other broken lights you can find. I’ll get us some gear.” Then he’d disappeared into the apartment, likely to go and find his favorite guns to bring along for some festive chaos.

Shawn grinned happily to himself. Now _that_ was the kind of spirit he wanted to see from his boyfriend. If it took a few wantonly mangled and destroyed string lights to bring a smile to Lassiter’s face, he wasn’t going to complain. Anyone else might have found such a display to be disconcerting, but if the detective could handle Shawn’s antics and bizarre decorations, then Shawn could handle a little Christmas shootout. It was for the man’s honor, after all.

Besides, the Michael Jackson bobble-head was staying, and maybe if Carlton was in a good mood when they returned later in the day, Shawn would be able to convince him to put up some mistletoe by the front door.

When Carlton returned to the front room, he was looking very excited and had a rather large case slung over one shoulder. "You going to get ready, or what?” he asked. Shawn noticed that he’d changed into black pants and a dark button-up that had “going to cause some chaos” practically written all over it. Shawn was honestly surprised that the war paint hadn’t made an appearance again (something he’d witnessed last summer during a certain water gun fight that, to be fair, had been Shawn’s own fault to begin with), but it was still early and Lassiter could have been saving it for the range.

Grabbing the tangle of lights, Shawn didn't bother changing into anything else. He was already dressed enough for public interactions, even if he didn’t look as prepared for battle as his trigger-happy boyfriend. “So, are you going to let me touch any of your guns this time?” he asked, eyeing the case with interest.

The detective smirked. “We’ll see.”

That would have to do. Besides, Shawn could always steal one of the guns when Lassiter got too distracted anyways. It was a win-win scenario, and Shawn was pleased to note that he hadn’t even needed to bring Gus over.


End file.
